the inquisition
by paper piper
Summary: Would you have left me alone? / They live in the aftermath arc -Ichigo/Rukia


A/N: This fic occurs around the same time as my other Bleach fic, "There is no debt," and deals with similar themes, but for the purposes of this story, assume that the events of "There is no debt" did not happen. (Did that make any sense? Sorry.) You could also think of it occurring around the same time as the Bount incident.

A/N: I guess in my mind Ichigo and Rukia work out their problems in the middle of the night, by half-yelling. Or something. I'm considering a series of "they live in the aftermath" stories so that the characters can work out some emotional stress from battle. Just a thought/theme/thing.

A/N: What can I say? Bleach is wonderful to write for, and IchigoxRukia is my favorite. But as the series progresses (I'm still on season 4), there will definitely be more ships for me to write about.

A/N: I can just tell. I'm going to write waaay too much Bleach stuff. Y'all will be sick of seeing me update.

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**Title**: the inquisition

**Summary**: Would you have left me alone? / They live in the aftermath arc –Ichigo/Rukia

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The questions lingered between them, filling up the air so it felt like they were never alone.

Sleeping in his closet was hard for Rukia, and sleeping across the room from her was hard for Ichigo. They both lay awake at night, staring at the same ceiling, unable to look or speak to each other.

None of their friends guessed it. During the day, they spoke, acted, plotted, teased each other as per usual, as if nothing had changed. But things had definitely changed.

When had it started? Rukia supposed it happened back in Soul Society when she'd told him she would not be returning to the Human World with him. He had smiled softly and did not fight.

_This is why_, she'd thought, staring at his orange hair against the orange sunset. _I have to get stronger before I return to you. Just like you did for me._

And Rukia replayed that moment over and over in her head, wondering what Ichigo had really been thinking then.

_Did you want me to come back? Did you want to ask me to come back?_

_Why didn't you ask me to come back? Why didn't you fight me?_

She sighed—_You've already fought too much for me, haven't you?_

But for Ichigo, everything had changed much earlier. In a much less romantic setting.

It all changed for him when he'd watched her walk away in the rain with two Soul Reapers (strangers, his mind coughed), when he'd realized just how much he depended on her.

"Stay and live," she'd prompted him with tears in her eyes.

Oh gods, it felt like choking on his own throat, watching her go without being able to lift a finger.

_Rukia—!_

He screamed her name in his sleep for days.

And yes, he had won her. He had fought anyone who stood in his way, he had trained his spirit and his body and felt himself grow powerful under the harsh conditions—he had won for her!

But he had not won her _back_, he knew. She had never been his to begin with, and though he told his friends, "I just wanted to keep her alive, she didn't have to come back here," it felt raw in his chest to say. Ishida and Chad (and Orihime too, he feared) picked up on the way it was hard for him to say her name.

Orihime looked sympathetic with her big beautiful eyes and sighed. "Kurosaki-kun, but don't you want her back?"

He'd smiled at the girl and shook his head. "No, she chose to stay there. Let her be."

But she'd come back. On a dark night, like the night she'd left, a night when he felt adrenaline coursing through his veins, when he was facing down an enemy he wasn't sure he could defeat—a dark shadow engulfed itself in flames and ice and landed with a soft thud, gracefully before him.

"Idiot!" she snapped. "Get up before you die."

And Rukia had cast him a look of contempt at his laziness in the midst of battle. She'd looked so strong, so formidable and foreboding. He nearly wept for her; he settled for gasping sharply before getting up.

But they did not talk about it. She only said she'd returned according to her orders. Ichigo cast a look her way, searching her face, but she did not meet his eyes. She did not approach him to discuss things, and she did not ask him about his life until she'd returned. She just resumed where she'd left off.

_But I can't do that, Rukia. Don't you feel the difference?_

But then again, she was old. I mean, really old. Centuries old, probably. She was a spirit, not a human. She did not exist in time, she did not bend her knee to time. She could watch time entangle itself and crumble to bits without batting an eyelash or gaining a single laughing wrinkle. Ichigo felt the disparity between them, like sandpaper in his chest.

And she tried to shut out the questions she saw in his eyes by turning on her side and sleeping with her back to him. She shut the closet door. She pulled the sheets over her head. She pretended to be asleep longer in the mornings when he tried to wake her, though she had not slept all night. She didn't know if she could face the questions he would ask, and live.

The questions seeped in, crept into their lungs.

They could feel themselves choking, moving between days as students and nights as Soul Reapers.

His hands shook on Zangetsu's sword hilt, and her voice trembled when she sang spirit chants.

And then came that horrible moment when Orihime, the sweetheart that she is, invited Rukia to join them for a festival scheduled a couple of months in advance. He noticed that, like last time (_before she was taken away—left!—walked away—!)_ Rukia smiled softly and put up both hands.

"I'm not sure, Inoue-san. I'll see what I can do," she said. Non-committal.

The questions swelled in Ichigo's chest till he thought he would burst with anger. Ishida and Chad glanced at each other, feeling instantly the change in his demeanor.

That night, Rukia started to shut the closet door when Ichigo sat up on his bed and faced her. "Rukia."

The hairs on the back of her neck pricked up at the way he said her name. She glared and yawned. "What is it? I'm tired."

"Why did you come back?" he asked bluntly. The words were heavy in the dark room.

She cocked her chin up a little. "My captain ordered me to return. I think he suspected that whole trouble with the Bounts." And she started to shut the door promptly, but Ichigo was already up and had his hand on the door, halting her.

"Are you going to leave again?"

Rukia stood up, uncomfortable at being blocked into the small space. She crossed her arms over her chest in her typical dominant pose. "Probably."

"When?"

"I don't know."

He wasn't sure where he was going with this, but he knew he felt deeply dissatisfied with the way things were. He figured Renji would be going back soon; would he take Rukia with him again? He looked at her under his orange bangs. Why was it that the thought of her leaving again made him seek air a little more desperately? Why was it so hard to _breathe_, right now?

"Would you have come back on your own?" he murmured, not meeting her eyes.

And it was a shock, a punch in the gut, to realize how important her answer was. Ichigo winced, feeling the physical pain attached to his emotions. Rukia similarly winced, hearing the crack in his voice.

But like the leak in a dam, suddenly something had loosened in him, and he could not stop.

"Why didn't you come back anyway?" he blurted, stepping closer.

He was seeing her with both wrists out, in the crucifix pose, ready for the spear that would rip her spirit away forever. It made him ill, it made him _angry_.

"Didn't you want to? After everything that's happened?"

And now he was approaching, reaching out with his teenaged hands, grabbing her shoulders.

"Did you only return because of your _orders?"_

His fingernails were pinching into her skin. She couldn't breathe. For the first time, she was afraid of the boy she'd given up everything for.

"What if I was dead when you finally did come back?" he demanded now. "What if we never saw each other again?"

"Ichigo!" Her voice was a warning.

"Rukia, would you have left me alone?" he half-shrieked, his voice hitching toward panic.

"Stop it, Ichigo," she muttered darkly.

"I can't stop, Rukia," he said, "I can't stop anything, everything's different now!"

"When?" she asked softly.

He calmed a little at the tone of her voice. "What?"

"When did everything change?" she asked now, meeting his eyes.

He stared for a long time, trying to gather himself back into his chest. He felt like he was everywhere and especially in his _skin_, standing there in the dim room with this small girl before him. He released his hold on her and started to back away, but then he noticed she had a firm hand clenched on his t-shirt.

"When?" she repeated.

The wildness in his eyes receded. "When—when you left me here, back then, to go back to Soul Society for punishment," he said.

Rukia frowned, stared long and hard. He swallowed slowly, stared back, trying to both hide himself and show himself. He was mixed up now, he couldn't remember what had started this whole argument, and he suddenly wanted out. How did she always manage to make him feel powerless, yet important, at the same time? He shivered, and she noticed.

She blinked slowly, and her expression softened a little. She did not smile. She looked very solemn and ancient when she said, "I would not have left you alone, Ichigo. Never think that."

The boy towering over her felt very small all of a sudden, like a child in his mother's lap. He wanted to throw himself in her arms and cry, but he was too proud and tight to allow himself that kind of intimacy with anyone. He could not even imagine what Rukia would say to such a thing.

Instead, he settled for resting his forehead on her delicate white shoulder.

And sighed, deeply, as if he were breathing out deadly toxins.

He closed his eyes.

"Thank you, Rukia."

She craned her neck back and let her head rest against the wall. She too felt very weak for several minutes.

"Don't thank me; I have no choice but to watch over the brat who stole all my powers."

And she cracked a smile, so Ichigo barked a short chuckle, but he did not remove his head from her shoulder. They stayed linked like that, just barely touching, until the tension in their bones seeped out, and the questions did not mean anything anymore.

Rukia slept with the closet door open that night, facing his bed.

_You didn't leave me alone. How could I ever leave you alone?_

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_fin._

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A/N: Semi-angst? But happy ending! Please **review**, m'dear, helps me write better.


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